


Fever

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-01
Updated: 2005-06-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: Skinner follows a feverish Krycek to his hiding hole. When the rogue agent collapses, Skinner's caring instincts overwhelm his hatred.





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Title: Fever

 

Author/Pseudonym: Ursula

 

Fandom: X-Files

 

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

 

Rating: Adult Slash

 

Status: Finished

 

Date Posted:

 

Archive: Skinner/Krycek writing bee

 

 

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or Ursula4X@aol.com

 

 

Classification: Alternative to canon after Season 4

 

Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: Stand Alone

 

Web Site: 

 

Disclaimers: No profit, fan fiction for fun

 

 

Notes: For Callisto. Thanks to Paula for beta and some contributions in dialog for Mr. Mannerly.

 

Warnings: Slash

 

 

Time Frame: After the Red and the Black

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walter's concern for Mulder withered when he saw Krycek in the window. Rage filled him when he saw his former agent lean down close. They were kissing; Walter was almost certain that was the case. His hands formed fists of rage. He stood waiting for lights to flicker off, thinking that he would kick in Mulder's door, catching the pair together.

 

To his relief and surprise, Walter saw Krycek come out the door to Mulder's apartment building. The man paused at the doorway, leaned on it, head hanging down. His right hand went to his left shoulder, rubbing it. When he walked away, he seemed to stagger and barely managed to get in a car that waited for him.

 

Walter followed easily, letting himself be led across town to a run down apartment building. He pulled over, parked, slumped down his car even though Krycek's driver seemed careless.

 

To Walter's surprise, a man in a dark suit, wearing a chauffeur's hat, emerged from the car. He opened the back door and reached into the interior of the car to help Krycek out.

 

A street lamp provided ample light. The solid man Walter had punched seemed to have metamorphosed into a new creature. Krycek seemed thin; his eyes were bright as if he was ill with a fever. He watched the chauffeur drive away as he leaned on the street lamp. When Skinner's erstwhile agent tried to mount the stairs, he had to stop and rest several times.

 

The progress stalled midway and Krycek huddled on the stairs, looking more like a pitiful waif than a dangerous double agent.

 

Walter wrestled with conflicting feelings and finally his more compassionate self won. He wanted to talk to Krycek anyway about what he was doing at Mulder's apartment.

 

OooOooO

 

Alex's legs were shaking. Damn Wilford Myles Mannerly to hell. Barely giving Alex time to wash the stink of the Uroff Koltoff from his body, Mannerly ordered him to deliver a message to Mulder, adding that Alex better be able to relight Mulder's fires or he was going back in chains to consider a short, miserable future.

 

It scared the hell out of Alex that the body he had always been able to depend upon was no longer reliable. Instinct made Alex hide his illness from Mannerly. He had the feeling if he let Mannerly know how sick he was that Mannerly would throw him to the wolves. 

 

Spender wanted Alex dead. He had wanted Alex dead for a long time, sick of his defiance and his efforts to sabotage him. Mannerly and Alex had that in common. The Englishman loathed Spender with a passion. His dislike blossomed when Spender arranged to have Mannerly's American mistress killed while Alex was in Russia.

 

Now fever sapped Alex's strength. What remained of his left arm felt as if it was on fire. His head throbbed and he hurt so badly that he wanted to throw up.

 

Better they should have killed him, Alex thought. Maiming him was like laming a wild animal and returning it to struggle out the remainder of a miserable existence in the wild, easy victim to rivals of his own kind as well as to predators that would love to make it lunch.

 

Alex couldn't make it up the remaining stairs. Mannerly had showed him this apartment, allowed him to hang his meager wardrobe in the tiny closet, and then told him to go to Mulder's place. Alex knew there was a clean bed up there. There was vodka in the freezer, some easily prepared foods in frozen and canned form, and juice in the fridge. Although right now, the only thing he felt up to using was the bed. 

 

And it was starting to rain. 

 

OooOooO

 

 

Walter Skinner, savior of puppy dogs and stray kittens, was a distant memory to AD Skinner, but he had once been that serious young boy. His mother had indulged him, pleased that her son had a tender heart and was not ashamed of it. He thought that person had died in Vietnam. Somewhere along the way, Walter started to think about himself as someone who helped mainly by enforcing the law. His job was to protect when possible; seek justice for the victims when he could not. Compassion was no longer a major part of his life.

 

Walter was surprised to be able to walk right up to Krycek. Suddenly, the man was looking up at him, mouth open, eyes fixed on him fearfully.

 

Walter grasped Krycek by both arms, letting go quickly when he felt the unnatural feel of the left arm. "What the hell?" Walter growled.

 

Peeling back the sleeve, Walter saw the pink unnatural material that was supposed to simulate Krycek's flesh. Krycek recovered enough to jerk down his sleeve and rasp, "Leave it alone. Just fucking kill me, Skinner."

 

Not that the thought hadn't crossed Walter's mind and not that Alex's invitation hadn't seemed like a good idea. However, appearances aside, Walter Skinner was a very subtle man; it was a much more interesting idea to turn the other cheek.

 

In fact, it crossed Walter's mind that it might be possible to turn more than a cheek. If he could turn Krycek, it would be a coup. He bet that there was a great deal of information locked behind Krycek's pretty face.

 

"What's your apartment number?" Walter asked.

 

"42," Krycek muttered.

 

"You're joking," Walter said.

 

"Yeah, I always make jokes when I'm freezing my ass off outside my apartment building," Krycek said. "I didn't pick the damn thing. My new boss did."

 

"New boss? Not Spender?" Walter asked.

 

"Yeah, new, but don't get happy," Krycek said. "Spender's still alive."

 

"We share that regret," Walter said. "One thing I believe we have in common."

 

Heaving Krycek to his feet, Walter said, "Help me a little. I could carry you, but I would rather not."

 

"Yeah, okay," Krycek said, "I can walk."

 

Krycek smelled of fever, almost a metallic odor seeping from his pores. His body was hot. Walter smiled at that thought. Krycek was hot in more than one way. 

 

"Okay, let's go," Walter said. "I have you. Just concentrate on putting one foot after the other. I'll do most of the work."

 

Apartment 42 was on the second floor, up stairs. Great. Walter regretted workouts he had skipped because the damn paperwork kept piling up. Lugging Krycek up to the next floor wasn't going to be fun.

 

Midway up, Walter felt Krycek slipping from his grip. He followed him down, catching Krycek by his upper arms before Krycek could tumble down the stairs. 

 

The groan that resulted was deep, an agonized sound that sent Walter's mind crashing back many years to the battlefields of Vietnam. Pain. He knew about pain, that kind of pain that blasted you away from your pride and made you no more than a suffering animal. For the first time, Walter felt a genuine stab of sympathy.

 

"We're half way there," Walter said, looking away from Krycek's face, which was twisted in pain.

 

Carefully gripping Krycek under his arms, Walter hauled him back up. "It's not far."

 

"I can't," Krycek said, breath catching.

 

"All right," Walter said. He closed his eyes and crouched to put Krycek over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. His back was going to make him pay for this tomorrow...

 

OooOooO

 

The apartment was very basic, but someone had gone to some trouble to set it up for Krycek's immediate needs. The cupboards held canned food, including broth. The bathroom was fully stocked with shaving supplies, soap, shampoo, and a sizable first aid kit. There was a small bag that looked like the type pharmacies used, but this bag held no advertising logo.

 

Opening the bag, Walter found an antibiotic, salve, and codeine 3. Conservative pain management... but then the prescription was intact. They hadn't wanted Krycek blurred for whatever errand he had been doing at Mulder's apartment.

 

The fleeting sympathy died before it was born. Krycek might be a wounded man, who was in great pain, but he was still Krycek, an enemy.

 

Reminding himself to keep his guards high with Krycek even if he was ill, Walter took the pharmacy bag and first aid kit back to the small bedroom where he had left Krycek. 

 

The man was still huddled on his side, his eyes tightly shut, his right hand clutching his left arm. Walter put my supplies on the bed table and said, "Good news, they left you some pain killer."

 

"Bastards," Krycek muttered, struggling to sit up. He reached for the pills with a shaking hand.

 

"Wait a minute," Walter said. How the hell had they expected Krycek would get the pill bottle open anyway? It had the usual locking lid. 

 

Reading the prescription, Walter shook out two pills. Before he could get a glass of water, Krycek reached over and snatched them from his palm, swallowing them dry.

 

"The antibiotics are the size of horse pills," Walter said. "I'll get you some water."

 

When Walter returned, Krycek had managed to remove his shirt. He was struggling with the straps that attached his prosthesis.

 

"No," Krycek said, as Walter reached forward to help him.

 

"You lost the right to say no to anything when I carried you up the stairs on my back," Walter said.

 

The look Krycek gave him, resentful, resigned, horror-stricken.

 

What the hell was Krycek thinking? Walter grunted, having some idea what Krycek's owners got up to. He said, "Not that boy. That's not my game."

 

"That's not what they said," Krycek spat out.

 

"Well, then they were wrong," Walter said.

 

"I saw tapes," Krycek responded as Walter studies the straps and then undid the fastenings. 

 

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy pretty boys," Walter said. "I don't need to use force to get what I want. I don't have to pay for it either."

 

"Oh," Krycek said then, "Oh, shit."

 

Krycek was looking at the covering for his scar tissue. It was spotted with blood.

 

"You really need this," Walter said, taking out one of the antibiotic pills. "You should have been on these before."

 

Swallowing the pill, Krycek tossed off the water, draining the glass.

 

"As I remember from the veteran's hospital, you don't use a prosthesis until the end of the limb is completely healed," Walter said.

 

"Given the time line," Walter said, "It's much too soon for you to be using one."

 

"Too bad," Krycek replied, gingerly trying to peel the covering free. It didn't want to come. Before Walter could make any suggestions, Krycek tugged, pulling the 'sock' free.

 

"Shhhiiih," Krycek hissed. "Fuck."

 

Donning disposable gloves that he found with the other supplies, Walter took the item with a grimace of disgust.

 

"It's reusable," Krycek said. "Put it someplace. I'll wash it."

 

"It's disgusting," Walter replied, but took the stained cover to the sink to wash. There was a laundry hamper in there and plenty of towels. Also a basin, which would come in handy to wash Krycek.

 

Next to the bathroom, there were accordion doors. Walter pulled them aside to reveal an apartment sized washer and drier, complete with detergent, softener, and bleach. He wondered who the Consortium had do Alex's shopping...was it someone they owned as they owned Alex? Did they have a full roster of maids and dishwashers? Doctors and dentists? Hell, did double agents have to fill out insurance paperwork?

 

Leaving that puzzle for some later time, Walter tossed the covering in the washer. Krycek's clothing was rank with sweat by now. He might as well add them to make a mini load.

 

"Krycek, let's get you naked," Walter said.

 

To Krycek's credit, he seemed to have accepted Walter's word from before. He fumbled at his jeans until Walter took off his boots, finding a hidden knife in one of them, peeled off the nearly clean socks, and tugged off the tight jeans.

 

"You like to put yourself on display, don't you?" Walter commented at the fit of those jeans.

 

"Guy has to work with what he had," Alex said. "Mulder gets distracted watching my ass."

 

"Mulder likes to watch any nice piece of ass," Walter responded. "It doesn't mean he's distracted. Mulder can give concentrate on more than one thing at a time."

 

Walter thought about telling Krycek that Mulder enjoyed watching Walter's ass too. It didn't mean anything...or at least Mulder never made a move. Just as well, Mulder was complex and Walter, up to now, preferred his sex life simple and forthright. Sharon was the last convoluted relationship he was ever planning to have. He had loved that woman, but it had been hell. Sharon had wanted someone who enjoyed a social life. Walter worked ten hour days and thought that was sacrificing his career for his marriage. Sharon wanted someone who needed her more than she needed him...Walter was the opposite. Sharon had wanted romance...she had a husband who seldom remembered to kiss her goodbye before he left for work.

 

Walter had faced the fact that he wasn't husband material. He did better with one night stands and fuck buddies.

 

Well, that was way too much information for Krycek, Walter took the soiled clothing and said "Be right back" 

 

OooOooO

 

"You have a fever," Walter said, touching Krycek's sweating brow. He took out the thermometer and inserted it in Krycek's mouth.

 

Walter loved the speed of these new devices and how easy it was to read them. 

 

"Yeah, a couple degrees," Walter said. "Krycek, you ever think whatever they're paying you isn't worth it? All it gets you is beat up, locked up. You've lost a limb now and they don't seem to give a damn that you're ill. Your driver could at least have helped you up the stairs."

 

"I told him I was fine," Krycek said.

 

"Stupid," Walter said.

 

"Wild animals conceal signs of illness," Krycek said. "If they don't they risk attack."

 

"You're calling yourself a wild beast," Walter said, amused.

 

"I'm calling the Project a jungle," Krycek replied.

 

"I’m going to sponge you down and see if that reduces the fever," Walter said, tired of the conversation.

 

One of the towels was a large bath sheet. That was handy. Walter took it to the bed, uncovered Krycek who was curled on his side again, shaking in a fashion that concerned Walter greatly. 

 

"Help me a little, Krycek," Walter said. "Roll onto the towel."

 

"Everything is this place is new," Krycek commented. "Well, I guess he thought enough of me that he didn't furnish my apartment out of a thrift store."

 

"Which he?" Walter asked. Certainly wasn't Spender. He could see Spender furnishing an employee's apartment with used goods if he was considerate enough to do so at all. 

 

"You haven't met this one," Krycek said. "Mulder has. He's a Brit. He's not playing the same game as our mutual friend."

 

"Ah, thank you, Skinner, that does feel better," Krycek said as Walter sponged his patient's sweating body.

 

"If you feel too cold, tell me," Walter said. "Going from fever to chills isn't too much fun."

 

"Yeah, I know that," Krycek said. He arched his throat as if to invite Walter to move the cloth there.

 

Obliging, Walter sponged the long throat clean. Krycek lifted his right arm, silently asking for the comfort of the cool slide of the cloth.

 

Eventually, Walter was going to have to deal with the left arm. Walter couldn't decide whether to do it now or wait until Krycek was rested. Well, the sponge bath seemed to be helping. He would finish washing Krycek and then make a decision.

 

"You're good at this," Krycek observed.

 

"Yeah, when they wouldn't release me from the veteran's hospital after I was mobile, I started to help out," Walter said. "My parents subscribed to the idea that idle hands are the devil's playground."

 

"There were a lot of kids in your family," Krycek said.

 

Walter scowled at that. He didn't enjoy being reminded that there were prying hands all over what should be confidential files.

 

"Shit, stupid comment," Krycek said. "I'm sorry."

 

"It's true though," Walter said, "I have a big family and I was the second to the oldest. I had more than my share of changing diapers and care taking. What about you, Krycek? You have any siblings?"

 

"No," Alex said, "I don't think my parents really wanted to have a child."

 

"They just give into family pressure or something like that?" Walter asked, more for the sake of conversation than anything else. Krycek had a nice body other than the tragedy of that arm. Walter needed to have distractions least his brain give his body the wrong ideas.

 

"No," Krycek said. "That would have been bad enough. No, it was something else. They had to have at least one child so they did. I bet you were a great big brother."

 

"Sounds almost biblical," Walter remarked. He put Krycek's foot in his lap to wash it. Krycek jerked it back a little. Must have been ticklish. Ah hell, Krycek had put Walter in a lot of discomfort often enough. Pretending to misread, Walter said, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know your foot was hurt. I'll be more careful."

 

Slowly washing the foot with delicate strokes that made Krycek squirm, Walter kept the inner amusement from his face as he had in many a ridiculous staff meeting. He continued the teasing strokes until Krycek finally said, "Skinner, have mercy. I'm ticklish."

 

"Say uncle," Walter said. This was turning out to be very amusing.

 

"Uncle, uncle," Krycek replied. "What are you twelve?"

 

"You seemed to want to know what having a big brother was like," Walter replied. "It's that. A lot of tickling and teasing, but they protect you too. My brother, Ivan, alternately made my life hell and made me worship him. He beat up a few bullies for me until I got my growth. I guess I did the same with the rest of the bunch."

 

That damn sympathy again... This time for that lost little boy look on that pretty face...

 

"I might as well finish this job right," Walter said. "I'm going to get some fresh water, warmer water."

 

"Thank you," Krycek said, turning his face away from Walter.

 

Krycek had a nice package, the kind of pretties that Walter liked to play with, nicely made, nothing out of proportion. His ass was lovely, fleshy, the kind of ass you could grab with two hands...

 

Finishing the job with an odd combination of relief and disappointment, Walter tugged the bath sheet out from under. Now he had more of a load for that washer and dryer.

 

When Walter came back, Krycek was sitting up, looking cooler, but staring unhappily at his stump. He looked at Walter and said, "I know you already did a lot, more than I deserve, but my arm's a mess. I think I'm going to pass out before I finish with it. Please?"

 

Walter had accused Krycek of being a coward, but there were details that told him otherwise. That fight on the balcony after Walter put together the details from the evidence at hand. Krycek had been chained, helpless. Perhaps his first impulse when he went over the side of the balcony was to hide the only way possible, but he had used the tactic to defeat his enemy.

 

You had to appreciate that much ferocious survival instinct even if you end up being questioned because it was your balcony after all.

 

Thinking about it, Mulder had no complaints about Krycek in the handful of cases they had worked. He described a novice agent who was diligent, clever, and good in field situations. Walter hadn't let Mulder destroy the reports...they were FBI records, however embarrassing Mulder found them. Walter said, "I'll take care of it, Krycek."

 

It was nasty. A god-awful mess.

 

"Jesus, Krycek, this is a massacre. Didn't they take care of you at all?" Walter demanded.

 

"They let me live," Krycek said, as if that was all that needed to be said.

 

Walter thought they were bastards. He shook his head, put his mind back to that veteran's hospital and gingerly washed the irritated mass of scar tissue.

 

OooOooO

 

Krycek was sleeping now. His face looked younger, the incipient lines of worry and fear vanishing with slumber. Walter puttered around the apartment, washing the few dishes, swiping down the counters, and then rummaging through the handful of books on the book shelf. He took out the garbage and switched the clothes into the dryer.

 

The TV held nothing of interest...no football, no documentaries, not even an old Dragnet episode. Ah, hell, he might as well catch a nap too. He kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt and tie too. If he had been thinking, he would have more something more suitable for skulking. He dropped his belt on the chair and lifted the covers to get under them. 

 

Krycek moaned then moved over, pushing his round ass into Walter's groin. Walter suddenly felt less like sleeping. He put a hand on Krycek to move him away. That apparently was a signal for Krycek to roll over and snuggle against him.

 

Thinking about it, at least, Walter would know if Krycek suddenly decided to go after weapons. He petted Krycek twice on general principal and went to sleep.

 

OooOooO

 

Waking up, Walter looked into green eyes. They were very close and studied him with great interest.

 

"Hi," Krycek said.

 

Well, that was an interesting reaction.

 

"Did we uh..." Krycek asked. "I don't remember anything."

 

Oh, Krycek thought that they were in bed for less than platonic reasons. Walter said, "Your virtue is safe."

 

"Too bad," Krycek replied, "Although if I get another chance, I would prefer to remember it."

 

"Probably won't happen," Walter said.

 

"I could make it memorable," Krycek said, then frowned and moved his hand to his cleanly bandaged arm.

 

"Pain?" Walter asked.

 

"Yeah, pretty bad," Krycek admitted.

 

Clamping a hand across Krycek's forehead, Walter said, "You're feverish too."

 

"And here I thought it was just you making me hot," Alex said.

 

"Rubbish," Walter shot back. He got out of bed and stretched. That was interesting. Krycek's eyes followed him and looked at his undulating torso with great approval. Hmm, so Krycek was either a great actor or was truly interested. 

 

The digital thermometer reported that Krycek was up to one hundred and two. Not good...not hot enough to justify dumping Krycek in a hospital, which was as good as a death sentence for him. Walter said, "Let's get some more pain medication in you. Then I'm going to give you another sponge bath."

 

"I think I died and went to heaven," Krycek replied.

 

"Bullshit," Walter replied, but he forgot himself and smiled.

 

Damn, if Walter didn't watch what he was doing, he was going to make a pet out of Krycek.

 

When Walter came back with the basin and the sponge, Krycek said, "I don't know if you should hang around, the Englishman might want a report."

 

"Can you stand?" Walter asked.

 

Krycek tried, rolling to his side so he could use his left arm. He heaved himself up a few inches and then fell back panting.

 

"That's what I thought," Walter said. He set down his supplies, moved aside the covers, and rolled Krycek back and forth to get him on the bath sheet.

 

Blinking his eyes, Krycek looked toward the ceiling for a moment. "Thanks for staying," he said in a rasping voice. 

 

OooOooO

 

Krycek slept for a while after Walter sponged his fever down. Walter didn't feel like watching TV so Walter found the lonesome Russian novel in translation to read. It was Resurrection...Walter remembered reading that in high school as a class assignment. The boy Walter had been in those days had to hide how much he loved the book, how enthralled he was with this glimpse into a darker world than he knew...

 

Walter could still find the passage he remembered...

 

"If once we admit, be it for a single hour or in a single instance, that there can be anything more important than compassion for a fellow human being, then there is no crime against man that we cannot commit with an easy conscience."

 

Before Walter was strong enough to get out of bed in the hospital, he had seen Resurrection in the meager supply of reading materials. He had read the book again and that passage stuck in his head. Even at twenty, Walter no longer lived by that standard and did not want to be judged by it. Compassion had been burned out of him...bullet by bullet...betrayal by betrayal... 

 

As an FBI agent, Walter had thought that he would find whatever redemption he needed by restoring order, by enforcing moral standards by virtue of his job. He had tried to be the boy he had once been. He still believed in those early days that he could make a difference. He had been praised for his compassion for victims, for how well he worked with the team, and with local law enforcement.

 

Walter remembered thinking that if he could rise up through administration, he could make some changes. He was still that knight in shining armor in those early days. Then the first compromise, swallowing the truth to avoid confronting his supervisor, ignoring a brutal act, a misjudgment, and now...

 

There were days when Walter wondered if he was any different than any of the other Assistant Directors. He wondered if his life had any substance or if it was all politics and that bastard with the rumpled suits and the one red eye of his cigarette constantly burning...

 

Thank God that Krycek moved and made some noise then. Walter hated introspection...it didn't make him feel any better about himself.

 

Going over to the bed, Walter asked, "You need anything?"

 

"Hand to the bathroom...something to drink and eat afterwards," Alex mumbled.

 

Alex's head was cooler and he had regained enough strength to sit up and help Walter get him to his feet. He even took a step or two on his own.

 

"Can you manage?" Walter asked.

 

"If I can't, just shoot me," Alex replied.

 

OooOooO

 

The chicken soup was from the freezer, not home made, but a step above canned. There were cans of coke in the refrigerator so Walter assumed that was what Krycek liked to drink and opened a can. He had a dim memory of seeing Agent Krycek perched on the edge of Mulder's desk, holding a coke can in his hand. He had remembered being pleased, taking it as evidence that Mulder was finally moving on from his separation from his partner, Scully.

 

Settling Krycek in the sturdy chair, Walter put the soup in front of him and started to pour the coke into the glass he had set beside the bowl.

 

"I like it from the can," Krycek said. "It starts to go flat in a glass."

 

So, another side to his turncoat former agent, a connoisseur of coke...

 

"All right, can you manage that soup?" Walter asked.

 

"Yeah, I feel better," Krycek said. "I guess I needed rest."

 

"And that antibiotic," Walter replied.

 

"That too," Krycek said.

 

"The antibiotic wouldn't have thrown you off," Walter pointed out. "Why do you work for them, Krycek? Is it worth this?" pointing toward the truncated limb.

 

"Money couldn't make up losing my arm," Krycek said. "It's not money."

 

"Then, what?" Walter asked, almost expecting in this intimacy that Krycek would answer honestly.

 

"Ambition," Krycek said, "Something you can understand, Walter. That was what motivated me at first. Then, as I learned more, I believed in my cause..." Krycek took a spoonful of soup, swallowed it then took another. 

 

Walter thought that Krycek was finished with his disclosure, but after eating a quarter of the bowl, he started to speak again. "I believed, but I was never blind. I started to see things that made me think. I saw they were lying to me, but it was too late by then. I was in too far. I couldn't get out. Now, I made my play for the big time, save humanity and grab a big piece of the pie for myself, but I fucked up. I grabbed a piece of ass instead. It was more to prove I was still a man despite this..." Krycek shrugged the remainder of his left arm. "Now another one of the Elders owns my ass. I don't even know why he let me live, what purpose there is in the games he is playing. I'm royally fucked."

 

"What were you doing at Mulder's?" Walter asked, not expecting an answer.

 

"Giving him some information from my new boss," Krycek said. "I don’t know why he sent me. I don't get where the Englishman is coming from. The one you call the smoker...Spender... he's an evil son of a bitch but I always see him coming."

 

Walter wondered why Krycek was telling him all of this, but he was afraid that the flow of information would stop. It did anyway. He finished his soup, drank his coke, and looked exhausted enough for Walter to help him back to bed.

 

"I liked waking up with you, Walter," Krycek said.

 

"Since when are we on a first name basis?" Walter asked, being pissy.

 

"Since you've seen me naked twice over," Krycek replied. He smiled at Walter from the bed.

 

Walter went to wash the dishes, ignoring the invitation. He picked up his cell phone and called Mulder then Scully. Neither answered. Krycek had better not have led Mulder into a trap.

 

OooOooO

 

Eventually, Walter went back to Krycek's bed. He thought Krycek was asleep, but when he lay down, Krycek turned toward him, moving closer. He didn't quite touch Walter until Walter decided 'what the hell' and nodded permission.

 

Krycek crept up to him like an abused puppy and rested his head on Walter's chest.

 

"I want you to take me," Krycek said, his voice rough, husky, so exciting it made Walter's cock throb.

 

"You're ill," Walter said, but he pulled Krycek closer, caressed his face.

 

"I'm well enough," Krycek said. "Let me show you how ready I am."

 

Fending off Krycek's touch, Walter said, "My help didn't have a price tag, Krycek."

 

"I know that," Krycek replied. He wiggled closer, past Walter's guard. His hand touched Walter's face, gently stroking his cheek. When Walter didn't reject the touch, Krycek rested upon his elbow to kiss Walter's cheek where his fingers had explored. 

 

Nice...but Krycek was a little off target...

 

"A kiss on the cheek? Am I your maiden aunt?" Walter asked.

 

Krycek looked surprisingly pleasant when he chuckled... 

 

"You do look a little like her, but you carry it better," Alex said.

 

"Bastard," Walter said. Enough. He took control.

 

The kiss was brutal, hard, long, and wet... That was the only way Walter could imagine taking Krycek.

 

"You gonna take those pants off?" Krycek asked huskily.

 

Walter sat up, fumbled with his fly, clumsy with want. "Do you have anything?"

 

"Hell, if I know," Krycek said. "Remember, I didn't furnish or shop for this place...although I like my house warming gift."

 

Managing to get rid of his pants and briefs, Walter opened the drawer to the bed table. Ah, someone had covered the possibility. There was a selection of condoms and lube. Good thing because Walter would have gone in naked and then regretted the risk...

 

All the choices...Walter decided that he wanted Krycek on his back, wanted to see his face as he fucked him. He wanted to see if he could move Krycek...he wanted to see his face lose its mask control in pleasure...he wanted to reach deep inside Krycek and touch the man he was.

 

Krycek's thighs were full, round, strong. Walter liked them very much. He kissed the hollow on the inside of each leg, stroked the tender inside crease where leg met torso. Krycek arched and moaned, a small begging sound that almost entirely devastated Walter's control.

 

Moving a pillow under Krycek's smooth strong back, Walter warmed the lube in his hand. That beautiful body stretched open to him. Walter stroked over Krycek's tight opening, teasingly outlining the edges before slipping a finger inside.

 

"I don't know about this," Walter said, hiding a grin at the way Krycek pushed forward to the hilt of his intruding finger. "This might not be the best idea."

 

"You're thinking with the wrong head," Krycek snarled. "Ask your dick what it thinks."

 

Somehow that seemed like a good idea...

 

OooOooO

 

Krycek was hot inside...lava hot. It made sense to Walter, gates of paradise, gates of hell, all in one. Strange how what could have been a mere necessity entranced Walter because of Krycek's reactions. The way Krycek moved when Walter flexed his fingers inside, the way he panted, the burn of his eyes that never left Walter's face, all fascinated him.

 

"I know you're going be good," Krycek said. "Make me feel it, Walter. I want you so bad."

 

It all could have been lies, but such sweet intoxicating lies. Walter felt powerful, wonderful...the way he had when he had chained this same man to his balcony. This was much the better, Walter thought. He wished he had done this instead...spared Krycek the cruelty of his mutilation, claiming him for his own, regardless of what Mulder said.

 

It was beyond patience. Walter needed to push inside, Krycek's legs over his shoulders, his body arched up to meet Walter's eager thrusts. Krycek's eyes finally closed for a moment. His cock flagged, but came back to life at Walter's caress. 

 

They were incandescent together. What had been hate was need...raw need. What had been a play for power on the most primitive level and meeting a scorned need was passion...was nearly love.

 

OooOooO

 

A wince made Walter rein in his thrusts, worth it to see Krycek look surprised at his restraint.

 

Connected...waiting, Walter bent nearly double to capture Alex's lips. Reaching out, Alex wound his hand around Walter's neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Walter felt the buzz of words spoken against his lips...love you...

 

Telling himself that it was nothing but a cliche spoken out of habit, Walter still had to stop saying the same thing. It was almost truth with him. The walls were tumbling down, had started to crumple when he decided to care for this wounded man.

 

"Stop thinking," Krycek said, "Just fuck me. Just give it to me, Walter."

 

All right...more than all right.

 

Walter's focus narrowed to the jolts of pleasure he felt as he thrust into Krycek's tight heat...looked at his strong beautiful body, his lovely face...his. His. Walter's...

 

Ignition between them. Flesh hot, sweat mingling. The scream of pleasure they both uttered as first Walter came and then Alex followed.

 

OooOooO

 

How the hell did Alex end up in his arms...and now he was Alex, not Krycek. Alex's right hand rested on Walter's left shoulder. His cheek rested on Walter's chest. His entire body plastered itself to Walter's. Walter could feel the damp heat of Alex's breath against his skin.

 

Body heavy now. Walter was relaxed, euphoric. He lazily petted Alex's back from his shoulders to the sweet round of his ass. He wanted to keep him, needed to have him whenever he wanted him. Alex was a need that Walter didn't know he had. 

 

"Don't think," Alex whispered, raising his head to kiss Walter again. "Just...hold me" 

 

Walter fell asleep, stroking the hard muscles of Alex's back, the velvet softness of his ass.

 

OooOooO

 

A clatter woke Walter...who the hell was that?

 

Someone was standing at the small stove.

 

"Who are you?" Walter snarled, throwing aside the blanket despite his nakedness.

 

Alex woke as well, a snarl marring his face. He settled down once he saw who the intruder was. "It's my boss, Walter."

 

"Tea?" the man asked.

 

"What's this about?" Walter asked, "Blackmail?"

 

"Certainly not," snapped the man. "How crass of you to suggest that!"

 

"I wouldn't agree to that," Alex agreed. He turned toward Walter, his eyes pleading to be believed, "I'm not their whore!" 

 

"I admit I expected to find someone with Mr. Krycek," the man said. "Hardly you, Mr. Skinner. Where's Mulder?"

 

"Mulder?" Alex repeated. "He should be back from getting the rebel by now. I did what you wanted. I made him believe again. I shocked him into action."

 

"He didn't notice you were ill?" the man with the English accent asked.

 

"No, why should he? You mean you knew I had a fever?" Alex asked.

 

"Of course, I did," the man answered. "I am neither indifferent nor foolish. My assumption was that Mr. Mulder would be cautious enough to follow you back here."

 

"Mulder, cautious?" Walter said, shaking his head. He picked up his pants to put them on beneath the cover of the blanket. "You really don't know Agent Mulder."

 

"Why did you want Mulder to follow me?" Alex asked. 

 

Walter put on his shirt too; it was bad enough to be caught as he was, in bed with a male lover. Once dressed, he found a pair of sweatpants for Alex and a robe for him to wear.

 

"An alliance, dear boy," the man said. "In an almost traditional sense of the word. You are my protegee, my chosen heir..."

 

"What?" Alex said, shaken from his guise of control.

 

"Foolish boy...did you think I plucked you from the dung heap because I lacked for retainers? No, not hardly. I've had my eye on you from the first time I saw you with that idiot, Spender. I saw him waste you...saw him try to throw away the potential he could not see," the man said. 

 

The tea kettle whistled and the man rushed to attend to it, taking down a plain bone china tea pot. He was intent on the ritual of making tea. Walter took the opportunity to whisper in Alex's ear..."This is your boss?"

 

Alex had the grace to blush and shrug.

 

"I really overestimated Mr. Mulder," the man mused.

 

"In what way?" Walter asked, feeling defensive of his agent.

 

"What I expected to happen was that Mr. Mulder would follow Alex here, observe his weakness and make some attempt to care for him. I assumed that Alex's evident attractiveness would work its magic, thereby giving me Mr. Mulder's ear," the Englishman said.

 

"Do come to the table," the man said.

 

Walter found himself responding to the man's air of command. Steely blue eyes gazed at Walter as he settled Alex at the table.

 

"Unexpected," the man mused, "Yet a master strategist adapts to the times and changing information."

 

"Are you planning on introducing yourself sometime in this century?" Walter asked.

 

"Oh, forgive me," the man said, "Wilford Myles Mannerly, an associate of the man you know as Spender, but hardly happy for the alliance."

 

Walter took the sparely fleshed hand he was offered. It was a thin hand, blue veined, paper fleshed. The man had an air of faded aristocracy. His long thin nose with the faint hook, his high fine cheekbones, and his tightly controlled mouth were recognizable, marking him as a certain type of Englishman. His expression was that of a man born to command, a self confidence absorbed along with his milk.

 

"What is this about? If you didn't intend to entrap Mulder or myself with Krycek, why would you want...why did you hope that Mulder would be interested in Krycek?" Walter asked.

 

"Alliances on the most basic level," Mr. Mannerly said, "have not changed since the first days of small tribes. A sexual alliance, the mating of a chief's child with that of another chief's child...that is the core of treaty making. To join family to family so that the good of one is the good of the other." 

 

"Thanks for the anthropology lesson," Walter replied. "So you thought that Mulder having a sexual relationship with Alex would bring him to your side? What is your side?"

 

"This will be very difficult for you," Mr. Mannerly said. "Alex, drink your tea. It's good for the blood."

 

Alex rolled his eyes but humored the man and sipped at his tea. He seemed to be grateful to his new employer for being treated with any modicum of concern...no wonder after the abuse he suffered from Spender.

 

Walter reached over and rested his hand on Alex's tea. "I can handle difficult as long as you can handle the fact that Agent Mulder is not going to be your pawn and that... Alex is mine." 

 

"Oh, most definitely," Mr. Mannerly said. "I can see that I was going about this all wrong. You will do, Mister Skinner. But first...Alex has some things to show you...when he is well."

 

"Things?" Walter asked. "What kind of things?"

 

"Aliens, Mister Skinner," Mannerly said. "They are very real and quite unpleasant. For more than forty years, I have worked with a group of men whose task was to negotiate the salvations of some little part of humanity against a coming holocaust. I went along with the common pack for too many years, let my honor wither and nearly die. I have had enough...I chose my path to protect my bloodline, to have my family spared."

 

"That's selfish," Walter replied.

 

"I am aware of that," Mannerly replied. "Don't try to be my conscience. I find I have one of my own. I lost someone recently, a beautiful woman that I loved. She was sacrificed for little reason...sacrificed for a cause in which I have lost all belief. Mr. Krycek brought to me something that gives me reason to believe that we can fight and win the war."

 

"The war against heaven," Alex said.

 

"They are hardly angels," Mr. Mannerly said.

 

Alex shrugged and winced as he jarred his left arm.

 

"I don't know if I can believe in aliens," Walter said.

 

"Can you believe what your senses and your intellect tells you? We have proof," Mannerly said.

 

"Show me cold, hard proof," Walter said.

 

"You understand that this must be a covert war?" Mannerly said. "This is nothing something you can have your FBI investigate..."

 

"I know how to fight hidden wars," Walter said.

 

"Yes, I believe you do," Mannerly said, patting his mouth with a cloth napkin after setting down his tea cup. "I still believe that Mulder is a key player...however, with your knowing cooperation and Alex's skills, I think he can be used effectively and protected at same time. Spender has his reasons for the games he has played with Mulder."

 

"I've never understood that myself," Alex said.

 

"He has his reasons," Mannerly said. "Mulder is his biological child and Mulder represents a viable bridge between alien and human."

 

"What are you saying?" Alex said. "You're saying Mulder's not human?"

 

"Don't look so shocked, Alex," Mannerly said. "That was always part of the plan. To create human and alien hybrids, who could either make sure that some part of mankind survived if you take the fatalist's point of view. Or if you took the opposing position, Mulder and those like him exist as potential weapons against those loathsome creatures that have designs upon our planet." 

 

"I just can't buy all of this," Walter said, shaking his head. "Look, Mannerly, I followed Krycek because I wanted to know what he was doing at Mulder's and because I wanted to question him. When he collapsed, I acted without thought and with compassion. Then I...wanted him. Maybe I always wanted him. I can't help the way I am. All this other madness..."

 

"Mister Skinner, as I said, proof will be forthcoming. I don't envy you the voyage of discovery that is to come," Mannerly said. He surveyed the two men and said, "Meanwhile, enjoy each other. Make peace and become a team that no one can sever. Alex, I picked you as my heir in this struggle. Don't disappoint me. Mister Skinner, you showed me your mettle and I honor you for displaying to me the qualities of humanity that, in the end, are what makes us worth saving. The future..."

 

Mannerly stood, moved toward the door and then looked back with a sad smile, "The future is up to you. Choose well..."

 

Mannerly's look at Krycek was beatific. "As I have chosen."

 

 

The end

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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End file.
